


Ace of Clubs

by TheStrange_One



Series: 12 Days of Christmas 2020 [3]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Cuddle Club, M/M, No Sex, casual identity reveal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:55:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28090515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheStrange_One/pseuds/TheStrange_One
Summary: Wade Wilson gets an unusual job offer.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Wade Wilson
Series: 12 Days of Christmas 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2054064
Comments: 17
Kudos: 216





	Ace of Clubs

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FayeAsher](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FayeAsher/gifts).



> Inspired by the comment on Reddit: "Wouldn't it be nice if there was a club people could go to where they didn't have to worry about 'cuddle" being synonymous with 'sex'?" And this happened.

Wade stared at the non-gendered person in front of him. “I’m sorry—you want what?” he asked them.

They frowned. “You came highly recommended,” they said. Their voice sounded—offended? Was that the right word?

Wade looked over the person again, wondering if it was a trap. The person was dressed in a loose, full length purple suit that looked like a cross between a silk bathrobe and a pant suit held together at the waist with a gold belt. Their black hair was held on their head in a bun and the few loose strands proved that it was curly hair. They were wearing eyeliner and lip liner, but no other makeup.

And this person thought _Deadpool_ was a good person to talk to about this? “Who recommended me?” he asked.

He was not prepared for the answer. “Spider-Man.”

Wade looked around the cheap diner before looking back at the person in front of him. The person who, if they were to be believed, wanted to hire him. And he had been recommended by Spider-Man. “All right,” he said with a sigh. “Run me through the job again.”

“We want you to be a bouncer at our club, _Ace of Clubs_ for our annual Holiday Bonanza,” the person told him. “The event runs from November 15 to December 24.”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Wade dismissively. “I got that. I’m just a little stuck on what your club actually is.”

The person in front of him sighed. “It’s a cuddle club,” they said wearily. Ha! Wade knew _that_ emotion well; he was good at inspiring it in other people. Even non-gendered people, apparently.

“A cuddle—club?” Wade asked.

The person in front of him nodded. “Look,” they said, “there are people who want to feel connected to other people. But they don’t want sex. For whatever reason, they don’t want sex. So, _Ace of Clubs_ fits that niche. If people want to cuddle, there are couches everywhere for that. If people want to dance, we have a dance floor. And there is to be _no pressure_ for sex from anyone.”

Immediately Wade saw the problem. “But for some people,” he said, “cuddles are synonymous with sex.”

The person in front of him nodded. “Mostly,” they said, “our normal bouncers are more than capable of handling the situations that arise, and we have a guard service that takes clients and employees to their cars—which are in a secured lots.”

Wade, who had assassinated people in so-called “secure” lots, barely refrained from a snort.

The person in front of him continued. “However, for some reason, our Holiday Bonanza seems to attract a more—rambunctious type of clientele.”

“Fuckers who can’t hear the word ‘no’,” Wade translated with ease. The person winced at his blunt wording, but nodded. “How did Spider-Man come into this?” he asked. Did the masked vigilante need cuddles? He couldn't quite ditch the mental image of Spider-Man on a small couch, with a bombshell beauty curled into each side.

“We got attacked by someone who has been a—problem in our past, and Spider-Man saved us and walked us home. As we walked we were talking and the issue with the club came up. He said that if he was going to pick someone who had no trouble at all enforcing the word ‘no,’ he’d pick you.”

Aw! He was going to cry, he really was. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll do it. When’s the first day?”

The club was both exactly like what Wade expected and nothing like it at all. Just like any other club, there was a bar, booming music through the ceiling, and people dancing on the floor. Unlike any other club, the inside was well lit, and instead of tables with chairs there were love seats and couches with coffee tables. (A small part of Wade couldn't help but notice that none of them matched.) People sat close together and all up in each other’s faces—but not _in_ each other’s faces. There was a lot of hugging, snuggling, and cuddling going on, but there was no kissing and no roaming hands.

Well, no roaming hands _for the most part_. Wade easily reached between two people, her hands moving where her hands weren’t welcome, and picked the woman up. “Hey!” she yelled.

People turned towards them, curious for a moment, but when they saw Deadpool carrying a woman out they went back to what they were doing. Over the past couple of nights, the sight of Deadpool evicting offenders had become routine and people didn’t even watch the whole thing any more. He wasn’t sure if he was honored by the trust they had in him to deal with offenders (of _every_ gender), or if he was annoyed that they were treating it so common place.

The woman growled at him as he deposited her at the back of the club, two bouncers there to both make sure that offenders didn’t get back in the club, and to make sure that nothing happened to the offenders. “Hey! What do you think you’re doing?”

Wade propped his hands on his hips and said, “Look here, Missy. The rules—and I know damn well you heard the rules because they’re not only told to you every time you go through those front doors but are on every cup and napkin in the place—state that there is no sex.”

A sneer covered her face. “He wanted it,” she challenged. “Men always do.”

“Then he can go somewhere else to get it,” said Wade calmly. “Just like you can. Now, shoo!” he made little shooing movements with his hands before going back in.

When he got to the floor he noticed that the young man (pretty boy!) the woman had been groping was waiting for him. “Thank you,” he said warmly, dark brown eyes soft. He was wearing the silver top with purple embroidered logo that marked him as an employee.

Wade gave a low bow for the young man. “It’s my job,” he said warmly.

The young man flushed again. “I—sometimes,” he said softly, “people don’t realize that something is bad for all genders.”

Wade wished he didn’t know what the young man was talking about, but he did. He’d seen it first hand. Women whispering that if a man didn’t want it there was something wrong with him, never mind that they’d be up in arms if someone dared to say that about them. Non-gendered taunting the gendered. They were rare, but they existed, and they weren’t spoken of.

Wade firmly believed that “no” was “no” and it didn’t matter what gender, age, or whatever the person was. They had a right to refuse, and that right should be respected. One of the things he liked about Spider-Man was that Webs thought the same way.

Before Wade had a chance to respond to the young man, he kept talking. “Normally it’s not a bad job. Lyre really does look out for all of us, and I was glad to hear that they’d hired you to help this year. Are you going to the staff-only Christmas party?”

Wade blinked for a moment, stunned by the change in conversation. “Um—I’m only hired until Christmas Eve.”

The young man rolled his eyes. “You don’t need to protect the employees from each other,” he said. “It’s okay to come and have fun, off duty.” The young man gently poked Wade’s arm with a grin. “Actually socialize with people you aren’t removing.”

Huh. Maybe he could do that. Maybe it would even be fun.

Wade sat, as huddled in shadow as it was possible to get inside the brightly lit space, wondering what ever possessed him to think that he could have fun. Despite everything, people were avoiding him like the plague. He couldn't blame them (he’d left the suit at home for this), but it still hurt. All these people were talking, touching, laughing with each other and he was just sitting there—like a bump on a log. An _ugly_ bump on a log.

Suddenly the couch he was on dipped and he looked over to see the same young man that had invited him to the party. The young man grinned and held out a drink for Wade. “Glad you came,” he said.

“Not yet,” said Wade automatically as he took the drink. He briefly considered that the young man might have drugged it, but then decided it didn’t matter and took a gulp.

“So, why are you sitting over here, all by your lonesome?” the young man asked.

Wade gestured briefly to the others. “They’re all—so happy,” he said. He absently picked at the hem of his shirt. “Didn’t want to ruin that.”

“You’re not.” The young man slid closer until he was _actually touching Wade_ , and grinned. “But I’m glad you’re here. I’m Peter.”

Oh, yeah. They hadn’t been introduced yet. “Wade.” Wade extended a hand for introduction, saw the scarred mess of his skin, and started to pull it back.

The young man caught it and held it for a moment before releasing. “Nice to meet you.”

“We’ve already met.”

For some reason the young man— _Peter—_ burst into laughter, leaning on Wade’s side before looking up with those big brown eyes. “Yeah, we have,” he said, nose wrinkling adorably.

Wade lost track of the conversation as he tried not to scare away the young man talking to him. Peter didn’t seem particularly skittish. He even laughed at some of Wade’s jokes. And there was something familiar in that laugh, something that tugged at the back of his brain for attention.

He didn’t figure it out, but Peter stayed with him through the staff party, staff party cleanup, and building lock up. “Walk me home?” Peter asked.

Wade didn’t need to be invited twice. He couldn't remember the last time he had so much fun.

Oh, wait. The last time he had this much fun he and Spidey were crashing a drug deal in the middle of the park. Spider-Man had even poked his arm and laughed—

—just like Peter. Wade waited until the two of them were alone. “So, does Lyre know that one of their employees is Spider-Man?” he asked.

Peter’s lips quirked in a grin. “I doubt it,” he said. “But, if they do, they’ll never tell.” Peter chuckled. “Not even me.” They reached an apartment building (not in the best neighborhood) and Peter stopped. “You want to come up?” he asked. “I’ve got _Home Alone_ on disc.”

Wade hesitated. “Are you sure you want me to?”

Peter gently bumped Wade’s shoulder. “I’ve trusted you for a long time,” he said as he opened the door to the building.

Trust. Peter, Spider-Man, _trusted_ Wade. Trusted him to know his identity. To know where he lived.

Trusted him not to do anything bad with that information.

Wade followed him in.


End file.
